


a good knife

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Battlestar Galactica, M/M, a quiet moment pre-battle, but I'm delivering anyways, cuz i fuckin LOVE BSG, love confessions of a sort, the BSG AU no one wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: “I want you to have this.”“Keith,” Shiro breathes out, gray eyes wide in shock. They fly up to meet Keith’s steady gaze. “This is your mom’s knife. I can-““Youwilltake it,” He insists firmly, pushing the handle into Shiro’s slack hand. “For luck.”--It's the night before a big op against the Galra and Keith can't go to sleep until he's given Shiro a good luck charm.





	a good knife

**Author's Note:**

> **The ▶▶▶▶▶▶ link to songs that you should listen too to set the maximum mood**

[▶▶▶▶▶▶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKkpIqixoPY)

Keith steps into the Pilot Ready Room, scowling at the mighty creak the metallic door makes as it swings open. Making a mental note to report that to someone, Keith peers into the dark. The room was like a miniature auditorium or cinema, built on an incline and seats going all the way up to the top. It comfortably fits 50 pilots if need be. Up to 75 if you include standing room. Typically, the room is well lit but right now, the lights are turned off. If it weren't for the fact that the projector was on, he'd think that no one was in the room.

 

His eyes follow the light beams straight to the pictures being displayed on the front wall. It’s a blurry shot of the Galra tylium refinery they’d stumbled upon yesterday. The one they’re going to attack tomorrow and try to take over. There’s a little yellow arrow just off center that shows where they’re supposed to hit. Keith's gaze shifts to the sudden movement he catches in the front row. He relaxes at the familiar face that's highlighted in the harsh light of the projector. 

 

As Shiro stands up from his seat, the arrow in the picture winds up pointing at the other pilot's stern expression. It’s the kind of silly coincidence that makes Keith let out an exhale laugh.

 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Keith says, as he starts the slow journey down to the floor.

 

Shiro’s stern expression immediately gentles when he realizes who has interrupted him.

 

“Keith,” he begins as he begins to walk towards the side of the room where the steps leading up to the doors are. He's still wearing his uniform, collar done all the way up. “What are you doing here?”

 

He’s not sure what his speedy finding of Shiro is a testament too – that he knows Shiro that well or that Shiro is utterly predictable and unchanging in his ways.

 

While they’re both top pilots, their pre-op strategies differ. Keith’s the kind of guy who prefers to get a full night’s rest before getting into his ship. Shiro meanwhile, gets hit with insomnia. But rather than tossing and turning around in his bunk, Shiro makes the most of it. He’ll pour over the details of the op over and over again until all the details are hammered into his muscle memory. It’s a habit that’s only gotten stronger after he’d become the CAG.1

 

Shiro jogs up the low steps until he’s standing next to Keith. His hand goes to take the younger pilot’s elbow as he says, “Seriously, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be taking it easy with that knee of yours?”

 

“I’ve got a hurt knee. It’s not like I can’t walk.”

 

“I thought the doc said you need to take it easy.”

 

Keith makes a face, “I am.”

 

Shiro’s skeptical expression turned amused thanks to the tiniest upturn to his lips. “Is that why the Princess found you working out in the gym today? Because you were taking it easy?”

 

Damn it. Who’d ratted him out?

 

Keith’s expression turns sour before he grumbles, “That was just… I was testing how much weight my knee could take now. All part of the recovery program.”

 

“Mhmm. It wasn’t you pushing yourself too hard to get better faster then?”

 

It’s the utterly disbelieving tone that makes Keith want to thwack Shiro in his legs but he stops himself because what Shiro’s said is true. But for the most part, he _has_ been taking it easy. It’s been three weeks since the whole incident where he’d crashed on that desert storm planet and came back in the Galra fighter with a busted knee and Keith’s been dedicatedly following the doctor’s instructions.

 

But this new mission…

 

Keith’s eyes go to the reconnaissance pictures displayed on the main wall. The usual board that displays their duties has been pushed out of the way, making a clean space for the projector to do its work. Shiro’s eyes follow his gaze. His lips purse together into a thin line, silent as Keith reminds himself of what’s at stake.

 

Their fleet is almost out of tylium, the fuel that powers all fifty or so ships housing the fifty thousand human and Altean’s that survived the Galra’s attack. The closest thing they’ve found to a solution is a Galra tylium refinery made on a planet two FTL jumps away. Allura’s decided that they’re going to take that refinery by leveraging the element of surprise.

 

On paper, it sounds simple. Set a trap for the Galra and when they’ve got their guard down, fly down to the planet surface into the middle of the tylium refinery, blow up the right piece of equipment they're identified as the sole weark spot, and the refinery is theirs for the taking without any damage to the tylium. Once they've done that, it'll be short work to get rid of the Galra that _haven't_ jumped in the wake of their defeat. Successfully completing this mission will give them enough tylium fuel to last them a couple of years. 

 

But again. It's simple on paper.

 

There are a million different things that can go wrong, that’s the way war goes. But this is more than a war. It’s a battle for their survival. If they don’t succeed here, they’ll be nothing but sitting ducks for the Galra to wipe off the face of the galaxy like a pair of windshield wipers clean off a bug smeared across the windshield.

 

The uncomfortable metaphor makes his stomach twist. It’s the same feeling that’s been dogging him all day. It’s the reason why he’d found himself heading to the gym, desperately believing that if _he_ believed his knee could handle the 6G pressure a Viper puts out then he’d be able to do it. But today was one of those days when their Commander, the Princess Allura, last surviving member of the Altean royal family and de-facto leader, had come down to the gym. She’d seen him pushing himself and proven that sometimes willpower and belief wasn’t enough.

 

His knee throbs at the memory. Keith hates himself just a little bit for the way he’d pushed himself. His knee hates him more for stubbornly trying to prove the Princess wrong. Those seven seconds where Allura had piled the weights on and make his leg tremble with effort were coming back to kick him in the ass now.

 

The twin pains in his knee and stomach exacerbate his worry. Before he knows it, he’s rattling off a list of things that Shiro’s well aware of but Keith wants to make sure he knows anyways. He doesn’t usually let his worries get the better of him but these are unusual times and unusual circumstances. Shiro good-naturedly listens to it all and answers Keith’s questions.

 

It's when he starts to smirk that Keith stops and asks, with a touch of exasperation because this isn't a laughing matter, "What's so funny?"

 

"I just can't believe that the dropout who up and quit Pilot's Training halfway through is giving me this much advice."

 

For  _that_ , Keith uses his cane to thwack Shiro in the legs. Over Shiro's pained yelp, Keith says, "That was  _before_! I've passed the Pilot's Training this time and am a  _proper_ Viper pilot now!" He's tempted to flash his wings at Shiro. 

 

He's not sure how to feel when Shiro laughs even while holding his hands up in surrender. It feels like a forced move - like Shiro's trying to make light of the whole situation. Keith can't help but feel conflicted. A part of him wants to kick himself because obviously Shiro is prepared – of course, he is! He’s their CAG, a captain with 4 years of field experience and one of the best pilots that that’s been in the fleet in recent years. If there's anyone in the fleet who can successfully complete this mission it's Shiro.

 

But Keith just can’t get over the fact that _he_ won’t be out there in the thick of things next to Shiro. He won’t be there to watch his back and help him. What if something goes wrong out there? Hell. Something _is_ going to go wrong despite all their planning. What then?

 

Keith knows it's irrational. He _knows_ this. He knows that Shiro won’t be out there alone, that he’ll have every single Viper out there with him.

 

 _But I’ll be in the control room with the Princess and Coran_.

 

Just thinking about having to be there, standing next to Allura feeling helpless at his inability to do anything to help Shiro and the others out has a cold chill spreading throughout his body. Keith will be helpless in case Shiro, or  _any_ of the other pilots need help. They have their own role to play in the plan and there won't be any chance to-

 

A quick squeeze of his fingers pulls Keith out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts. He blinks down at Shiro’s hand and wonders when that happen.

 

“I wish you were suiting up tomorrow. Everyone would feel better if our best pilot was riding along with us. Including me.”  

_Me too_.

 

A lump forms in Keith’s throat. It’s just two small words, four different alphabets altogether. And yet they fill up his mouth, sucking all the moisture out and making him feel like he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

 

He wishes that too but if wishes were horses...Right now, this isn’t about him. It’s about Shiro. Keith needs to reassure him that he can do this. So he licks his lips and crosses his arms across his chest.

 

“You’ll get this done. I know you will. I believe in you and the rest of the team,” Keith’s ashamed to say that he tacks the last bit of his sentence as a hurried afterthought. Shiro realizes this because he ducks his head in a quick laugh.

 

It’s a good sound. Arguably one of his favorites.  His heart twinges because it's a sound that’s grown increasingly infrequent. Before the Galra attacked Altea and its colonies, Shiro was quick to laugh. He had the brightest smile and biggest laugh. But now…

 

As he shifts his weight onto his good leg, the knife he’s got strapped to the back of his belt shifts minutely. It’s a gentle reminder that this trip had a reason. That he’s been wanting a quiet moment alone with Shiro since Keith had quietly been pulled into the War Room by Allura to help her and Shiro hammer out a suitable plan to attack the Galra and take over their fuelling station.

 

The entire reason he’d made himself take the journey halfway across the ship to the Pilot's Ready Room was because Keith knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did this. So he clears his throat, reluctantly taking his hand back from Shiro’s warm grip before shifting to lean against a seat.

 

Shiro takes a step forward in concern, no doubt thinking that Keith’s knee is bothering him. Which it is, but that’s not _entirely_ the reason why Keith needs that support.

 

“Do you want to sit?”

 

Waving a hand, Keith brushes the concerns away in favor of moving his hands back to unstrap the weapon. He could do this without needing the support but what with his knee… It’s still as easy as breathing to take the knife off his belt and hold it out towards Shiro, handle first.

 

“I want you to have this.”

 

“Keith,” Shiro breathes out, gray eyes wide in shock. They fly up to meet Keith’s steady gaze. “This is your mom’s knife. I can-“

 

“You _will_ take it,” He insists firmly, pushing the handle into Shiro’s slack hand. “For luck.”

 

Shiro’s expression twists at that. It’s an ugly smirk, like Keith’s added fuel to the fire instead of water or sand. Worry immediately twists Keith’s gut, making him rush forward with an explanation. “I’ve had this knife with me through thick and thin. Especially when I’m in a ship or a plane. I’ve never gone down whenever I’ve had it on me.”

 

That’s low hanging fruit because Keith had the knife on him when he’d crashed just recently. He’s ready for Shiro to tease him about that and is twice as ready to share that the knife helped him survive. So that makes it a _practical_ good luck charm.

 

But instead of the expected banter, Shiro looks away muttering, “So, you’re worried too.”

 

“About what?”

 

Shiro doesn’t answer. He just stares at the knife in his hands and avoids Keith’s gaze, Keith’s question. The silence between them stretches long and deep, so much so that Keith can easily make out the low hum of the projector at the top of the stairs. It grows into an awkward silence Keith _wants_ to break but isn’t sure how.

 

Someone else has expressed their worries to him and that’s what’s caused Shiro to doubt himself. Which is beyond silly in Keith’s eyes. But there’s Shiro, standing before him nervously twiddling with his fringe in a nervous, anxious habit that he’d hammered out of himself ages ago.

 

_Or maybe it’s me?_

 

Did he make Shiro feel this way by lecturing him the way he did just a couple of minutes ago? Did his concern lead to him carelessly trampling over Shiro’s feelings and self-confidence? His stomach caves at the thought of hurting Shiro. Keith’s lips part but it’s a false start. Once, twice, thrice.

 

“I-“

 

“You know sometimes I think that,” Shiro talks over his whisper, not having heard Keith, “the entire ship feels that you would do better.”

 

Brows dipping in confusion, Keith asks, “Do what better?”

 

Shiro gestures between them, around them. The grip he’s got on the covered knife is white knuckled. Keith wonders if Shiro’s bionic hand can apply enough pressure to cut through the leather. “Be a better CAG. A better leader.”

 

If it wasn’t so out of left field, Keith would laugh. Who in the name of Altea believes that? Thankfully, the gravity of the moment holds him in place and he immediately says, “I don’t.”

 

He hopes the firm, no-nonsense way in which he says that helps reassure Shiro. A sharp hurt causes his heart to twinge when Shiro’s vulnerable gaze rises up.

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

Shiro asks the question so softly, with such a child-like desire for comfort that Keith takes a step forward to tightly squeeze his hand. His human hand.

 

“If there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. I believe in you more than I believe in myself because I know exactly what you’re capable of because you’re my very best friend."

 

The look he gets for that is indescribable. It might just be the poor lighting in the room but Keith sees a wet sheen to Shiro’s grateful look. It sparks a rare feeling of affection in Keith that only Shiro seems to ignite. It’s the kind of emotion Keith often tries not to act on because it makes him feel suspiciously vulnerable. But this is Shiro.

 

He stares at their linked hands for a moment, unable to keep looking at Shiro as he readies himself for his next confession. His heart hammers inside his ears in anticipation.

 

"If there's such a thing as soulmates Shiro, you'd be mine."

 

And because he can’t help himself, because Keith’s the kind of guy who follows his first instinct, he shyly peeks at Shiro to see his reaction.

 

Shiro's gray eyes are wide and beautiful. They look almost like mercury thanks to the silvery-gray light of the projected pictures. Keith feels heat crawling up his cheeks as he recognizes the love and gratitude in Shiro’s soft gaze. He’s ready for some teasing, or worse some gentle ribbing and a similarly worded confession, and tries to ready his heart for it.

 

But Shiro surpasses expectations by turning his hand around to link their fingers together before taking a step forward so that they’re toe to toe. They haven’t been this close in… in… Keith can’t think. Shiro’s just too close. His breath hitches when Shiro pitches forward to gently bump their foreheads together.

 

Keith feels too hot, too cold, too light, too heavy. His heart threatens to give out as he learns what Shiro’s inhale and exhales feel against his heated cheeks. It’s too close, too intimate for Keith’s love-struck brain to comprehend all at once. Keith feels dizzy and light headed. He can’t stop himself from wildly hoping that maybe this is how their game of tap dancing around their feelings for each other will finally come to a head with his confession.

 

"Thank you, Keith," Shiro whispers. Keith shakes his head a little because there’s nothing he needs to be thanked for. But again, his words go floating away when Shiro slowly, deliberately, _carefully_ brushes their noses together in an unmistakable reindeer's kiss before taking a step back.

 

Keith sucks in a deep gulp of air and tries not to pass out. But the pseudo-kiss also gives him he courage to be the one to lean in. Their forehead and noses connect firmly. Keith pushes himself up on the toes of his good leg, willing Shiro to answer. Satisfaction blazes in him when Shiro pushes back, creating a firm touch.

 

It’s supposed to have been comforting but the sparks touch upon the dark desperation Keith’s been trying to tame since the mission time had been decided. It’s an old fear that he’s never been able to let go off.

 

It makes his eyes itch, prompting him to shut them even as he whispers, "You better come back too. I can live without the knife."

 

_I'm not sure I'll manage without you though..._

 

"Yes, sir," Shiro whispers.

 

Keith wishes he could stand here for the rest of the night, just him and Shiro shrouded in shadows sharing each other’s breath. But there’s a battle to be won and a war to be fought. And to do all that, they need to sleep.

 

Loathe as he is to do it, Keith points out in a whisper, “You should get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

 

Shiro’s nod causes their hair to tangle together, causing white and black to mingle together. They pull apart with clear reluctance, hands still linked between them. Keith thinks he’ll use his free hand to grab his cane and see how long it will take for Shiro to let go of his hand.

 

"I'll bring this back," Shiro promises, holding up the knife he’s holding his other hand.

 

"You better, or I'll kick your ass. That's a good knife."

 

Keith wants to wince at the reply, ready to apologize for the way the connection between his mouth and brain have broken off. But Shiro's reaction is to laugh. It’s a short but honest sound that rings off the metal walls, bouncing hotly off Keith’s lips. The ticklish feel and warmth in the sound makes him grin as well, albeit a lot more sheepishly.

 

“Come on,” Shiro urges as he takes a step back but not letting go of Keith’s hand. “I’ll take you back to your bunk.”

 

[▶▶▶▶▶▶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNcICyquJFQ)

 

Like most of the crew, Keith’s waiting for the Viper pilots to land in the Hanger Deck but the celebrations have already begun. The second Shiro had radioed in to report that the mission was a success, celebrations had broken out throughout the ship and amongst the crew.

 

They’re high off their success. So much so that they break the rules and break out the alcohol. Bottles of clean aqua liquid pass from one hand to another, people cheering, yelling, clapping, hugging, kissing each other as they try to process the scale of victory they’ve pulled off. Keith’s not the kind of person to accept hugs from a stranger, but today he allows it.

 

Keith’s not sure if his feet are touching the ground and he doesn’t care to check. He lets himself be carried by the buoyant mood of the rest of the ship. His knee had been aching like hell watching their Viper pilots complete their mission but right now? Keith can’t feel even the barest twinge of hurt.

 

Keith finds a bottle of golden, bubbly alcohol being pressed into his hand by Lance, who immediately opens his arms to grab Hunk and Pidge in a group hug before all three of them bounce in excited glee at having completed their first official mission. He takes a swing of the liquid, loving the way the bubbles pop against the roof of his mouth and down his throat.

 

And then he sees Shiro’s _Mark-II2 _ pulling up into its spot and a whole new bunch of happy fuzzies fill him up. Keith begins to make his way through the crowd, eager to get to Shiro and congratulate him on his flying.

 

“I couldn’t have done it better myself,” is what Keith’s brimming over with the desire to say.

 

Shiro climbs out of the cock pit, yanking his helmet off his head. His fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead, short hair frizzy. He never looks more dashing and attractive than he does when he’s getting out of his ship. Keith’s insides twist in wonderful agony, body hurrying to get over there next to Shiro, when their eyes meet through all the din and clamor around them.

 

The heat in Shiro’s eyes arrest Keith. His feet are stuck to the ground as Shiro approaches him, each step heavy and meaningful. The crowd around them seems to disappear and Keith just knows, _this is it_. His heart trips over itself in anticipation, ready for anything that may come and yet he never sees what’s coming – not even when Shiro’s gloved hands gently cup his jaw and bring their lips together in firm contact.

 

Keith sucks in a quick breath through his nose, brain firing all synapses to process the contact and make his body react appropriately. He lets go of the cane because it’s insignificant and unimportant compared to getting his arms wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders. Keith finds himself grinning into the kiss as Shiro lifts him off his feet mid-kiss, body shaking with delight.

 

They pull apart as Shiro gently lets Keith back on his feet, beaming at each other for a long, happy moment before Keith’s hands squeeze the back of Shiro’s neck.

 

“Good to have you back.”

 

“It’s good to be back.”

 

Pride, pure and unfiltered turns his voice low as Keith says, “I knew you could do it.”

 

Shiro frees a hand to pull out Keith’s knife out of his uniform and holds it up with a grin. He doesn’t say anything but the implications are clear. He doesn’t wait for Keith to take it. Rather, Shiro takes it upon himself to put the knife back in its usual place on Keith. Once done, he gently pats the base of Keith’s spine and the knife.

 

Without another word, they move as one to hold each other and remain caught in a tight hug until Matt comes barreling in, yelling excitedly at Shiro for having successfully pulled off the mission. Keith grins at the way Shiro keeps him under his arm and takes a swig of the good Nunvill being passed around before offering it to Shiro.

 

"I can't believe we did it!" Matt is exclaiming over and over again, smile brighter than the gleam of lights on his glasses. "I just can't!"

 

Shiro's hand squeezes his shoulder, pulling Keith just a little bit closer before he says, "You just needed to have some faith, Matt."

 

Warmth floods Keith at the indirect praise and he hides his delight behind another sip of his drink.

 

Matt argues, "I always had faith!" before quickly changing topics and insisting Shiro tell them every detail about the Galra's refinery, especially how he'd known which vent to go into to attack the factory at the critical point. Keith's delighted when Shiro pulls him to the nearest bench, helping him sit down before sitting down himself. As he tells the story, the crowd around them grows. The pilots come to stand next to Shiro, chiming in details along the way to create a messy retelling that's perfect and sure to pass down into the history books.

 

And the entire time, Keith keeps a firm grip on Shiro's hand and his proud gaze on Shiro's face.

\---

1\. The Commander, Air Group (CAG) is a senior position aboard a Battlestar, assigned to an officer Captain rank or higher. The officer holding this position is in charge of the [Viper](http://galactica.wikia.com/wiki/Viper) and [Raptor](http://galactica.wikia.com/wiki/Raptor) air wing assigned to their Battlestar. They are in charge of all pilots, their ships, flight plans and training, and have a significant input to battle strategy.↩

2\. The Viper Mark II is a one-man space superiority fighter. The Mark-II is the 2nd iteration of the line. ↩

**Author's Note:**

> watch BSG.


End file.
